The Happy Little Potato"

On the stormy night of August 24th, 2005, I was born to the sound of roaring thunder. As a newborn, I looked around, curious about this whole new world. So, this was the family I was born into. The house was practically bare, a dilapidated shack with a broken bed, a rickety table, and chairs. Everyone was dressed in tattered rags. Hey, why was there a little child sitting at the table, drinking porridge from a broken bowl? There wasn't much porridge to begin with, and the bowl was chipped. As she drank, porridge dribbled out. Whenever a drop fell, she would immediately scoop it up with her hand and lick it clean. Was I really born into this impoverished family in a small mountain village? I didn't want this. I really didn't. My life ahead would be so difficult. What was I to do? I wanted to run away, but I was just an infant. No, I had to escape. As soon as I grew a little older and learned to walk, I had to get out of here! Just then, everyone was looking at me with smiles, except for an old woman standing to the side. Her face was a grim mask, devoid of any joy. She muttered under her breath, "How is it a girl? Another money pit." Hearing her words, my heart sank. Thump. It was over. They favored boys over girls. "Keep your voice down," someone next to her advised. "If your daughter-in-law hears you, she'll be upset again. She's just given birth." "So what? She popped out a worthless girl, and I'm not allowed to say anything? She has the nerve to be angry? Hmph! If she had given me a grandson, I'd be stewing a whole chicken for her right now, making sure she had soup and was well cared for. But a girl? She can forget about chicken soup. Not a chance," the old woman retorted, her lips curled in disdain. After her tirade, she turned, slammed the door, and left. Now I understood. That horrible old woman was my grandmother. I actually had such a venomous grandmother. My eyes darted to the left, to a weak woman lying on the bed. I figured this must be my mother. I looked around again but saw no sign of a man. What was going on? Did I not have a father? A whole gaggle of aunts and busybodies stood nearby. Were they all my relatives? As I wondered, they began to chat. "Oh, it's such a pity. No man in the house. Who knows what that husband of hers is busy with all day? You don't see him all year round. His child is born, and he doesn't even come back to take care of his wife. Aish, what a tragedy!" "Exactly! And with such a wicked mother-in-law, her days ahead are going to be tough." "It would've been better if she'd had a son. But now, with another daughter, I'm afraid there won't be any good days for her." At that moment, another woman walked to the bed to see my mother. "Cui Ying," she said, "you have to take good care of yourself from now on. It doesn't look like your mother-in-law has any intention of helping you, and your husband is never home. If you need anything, remember to call us. We'll do everything we can to help." My mother listened to them all, and hearing this woman's kind words, she began to cry. In a frail voice, she said, "Thank you. Thank you for looking after me. I will surely repay you all one day." These neighborhood aunties had each brought something—eggs, fruit, and other things—and placed them by my mother's bed. The woman who had just spoken added, "Cui Ying, remember to boil the eggs and eat them. You need nutrition so the baby will have milk." Another woman chimed in, "Look how weak she is. How can she possibly cook for herself? And that mother-in-law of hers certainly won't be making her any food." The two women looked at each other, and they decided they would go home, cook the eggs, and bring them back for my mother. It seemed these neighbors were quite kind to her. Amidst all the noise, I suddenly burst into tears. I didn't know why I was crying; I just couldn't control it. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't. What the hell? Was being a baby this difficult? I couldn't even control my own voice. Honestly, for a newborn to have such complex thoughts, I had to admire myself. It was probably because I didn't drink Meng Po's soup (the soup of forgetfulness) in my past life. In a way, that was good. I could start planning for my future right from birth. The crowd of aunties soon dispersed. They had their own families to return to; they couldn't look after my mother forever. Not long after they left, my grandmother came back into the room. Seeing the pile of food on the floor, she walked over and started grabbing it, muttering, "As if I'd let you have all this good food. You think you deserve to eat after giving birth to a useless girl?" With that, she hauled the food away, leaving my weak mother and tiny me behind. Tears streamed from the corners of my mother's eyes. She sighed. "My child, why isn't your father back yet? If he doesn't return soon, we're both going to starve. My poor, poor child!" What was this situation? What kind of person was my father? I was already born, and he was nowhere to be seen. And he let my grandmother treat us like this? How were we supposed to survive? I couldn't possibly die right after being born, could I? Just then, my body betrayed me again. Oh no. I felt a warm gush beneath my bottom. Heavens, I think I have diarrhea. What now? My mother was too weak to care for me. My grandmother wouldn't lift a finger, and my father was a ghost. Aish! My tragic fate! After a long while, the area beneath me felt increasingly sticky and uncomfortable. I had no choice but to open my mouth and wail, hoping to alert my mother that I'd soiled myself. But when she saw me crying, she just patted my chest gently, cooing, "Baby don't cry, baby don't cry. Time for baby to sleep, time for baby to sleep!" Oh, for crying out loud! There was a giant pile of poop under me, how could I possibly sleep? I completely lost hope. I could only wait for the poop to dry, which might make me feel a little better. As I thought about it, I actually started to get sleepy. Under my mother's lullaby, I slowly drifted off. Sleep is the most important thing in the world. I'd worry about nothing else. Even with a pile of dung under my butt, I could sleep soundly. I guess this is what it means to be a baby. As I was sleeping sweetly, I was awakened by another commotion. "What a beautiful little doll! Her little face is so pink and chubby, just adorable!" "Cui Ying, sit up quickly. These eggs are freshly boiled. Have two and drink some of the broth!" I had been dreaming of my wonderful future! Hearing their voices, I knew I had to wake up because my bottom was feeling more and more uncomfortable. I opened my eyes to see two or three women feeding my mother, one of them even supporting her back. They seemed like good people; they really did go home and cook the eggs for her. No, I couldn't let this go on. I had to make them notice the strange situation with my rear end. So, I opened my mouth and let out a mighty cry. "Waaaah, waaaah!" My cries certainly got their attention. One of the women quickly picked me up and started rocking me. "Baby don't cry, baby don't cry. Aww, aren't you the cutest? We can't cry, we're a good girl, we have to be sensible!" Her cooing only made me angrier. What the—I pooped myself, can't you people smell it? Honestly. All you do is try to get me to sleep or tell me not to cry and be a good girl. Even if I'm a good girl, I still have to poop! Seeing that I wouldn't stop crying, another woman said, "The baby hasn't had any milk since she was born, has she? She's probably hungry. Here, bring her over for a couple of sips." And with that, I was passed into my mother's arms. Before I could even process what was happening, my mouth was blocked. Damn it all, I was being force-fed. Who could possibly understand what I was feeling right now? I had no choice but to drink. Just then, the two women started laughing. "See? I told you she was just hungry. Now that she's eating, she's stopped crying!" "Looks like you're the experienced one! A mother of two, I see!" I was rendered speechless by their conversation. A mother of two, and you don't know that babies poop? My mouth was occupied, and I could only swallow continuously. As I drank, my mother suddenly shifted me, changing my position. My mouth was finally free to breathe. I immediately started wailing again, trying to tell them I wasn't hungry, I just really, really needed a change. The moment I cried, my mother latched me on again. I lost control and resumed drinking, continuing until milk started dribbling from the corners of my mouth. Only then did they notice. They used a grimy-looking black rag to wipe my mouth. I was so disgusted, but I couldn't speak. I could only let them use that filthy rag on my face. Finally, I could breathe freely again. No, I had to give it one last shot. I summoned all my strength and cried out. "Waaaah, waaaah!" This time, the other woman took me from my mother and started rocking me. "Baby's full now, no more crying! Okay, time for baby to sleep, time for baby to sleep!" For crying out loud! Back to sleeping again, are we? I could feel the poop under my butt hardening, and you're here trying to get me to sleep. Just then, my stomach churned again. Oh, dear lord, I think I have to go again. And just as I expected, another warm stream gushed out from under me. The woman holding me seemed to have felt it. "Hey, I think the little one has gone to the toilet. We should check!" I was ecstatic. Finally! The ordeal was over! They finally realized I'd made a mess. But the other woman said, "No way. The baby was just born. She shouldn't be pooping yet. You must be mistaken." Hearing that, a torrent of curses flooded my mind. I had a tiny glimmer of hope, and she just had to crush it by saying newborns don't poop this soon. Oh, thank you so much for that! My mother said, "Could you please help me check? I'm too weak to do much myself. When her father gets back, I'll make sure he thanks you properly!" "We're all neighbors, no need for thanks! We should just help each other out." "That's right! You've helped our family before, too! This is just what they call 'one good turn deserves another.' Hehe!" And now they were chatting, completely forgetting about me, weren't they? I'm begging you, please, just look at my diaper! This baby's butt is at its limit! Finally, the woman laid me down on the quilt to check. "Oh, my heavens, this child has made a huge mess!" "Quick, quick, get some paper to wipe her." "Where would they have paper? I haven't seen any tissues in this house." "Forget it, just bring that rag over." I watched in horror as the woman grabbed the same grimy, black rag she had used to wipe my mouth and proceeded to clean my bottom with it. Was this really the only piece of cloth in our entire house? Weren't there any other towels? Then another thought struck me: after they use that black rag to wipe my butt, will they use it to wipe my mouth again later? The thought left me stunned. "This rag is already black. Just throw it away," one of the women said. I couldn't agree more. Yes, please, hurry up and throw that disgusting black rag away! But upon hearing this, my mother quickly protested, "Don't throw it away! What will we use then? We can just wash it and use it again! We can't be wasteful. Our family can't compare to yours; we're very poor." The woman heard my mother and had no choice but to take the rag to the washroom, clean it, and hang it on the iron bed frame. What kind of life was this? A rag so filthy it had turned black, and we still had to keep it. After the two women left, my mother looked at me and smiled. "Don't you worry, my child. I will definitely raise you to be safe and sound." But I wanted to tell my mother that I really didn't want my mouth wiped with that black rag ever again. Suddenly, there was the sound of footsteps outside the door. A man walked in. When my mother saw him, she smiled. "You rascal, you're finally back. Your mother wouldn't even cook for me. Look, I've given you a beautiful daughter. If it weren't for our kind neighbors helping me and boiling me two eggs, I don't think our daughter would have had any milk to drink." "It's alright, I'm back now, aren't I? I won't be leaving this time. I'll stay and take care of you. I even bought two bags of potatoes. Look, I'll cook you some potatoes tonight," this man—my father—said. "Why did you buy so many potatoes? And why are they all so small? Look, the child doesn't even have a name yet. You should give her one." "My daughter is so beautiful! Why don't we call her Xiao Tudou (Little Potato)?" "She's a girl! How can you give her a name like that?" "What do you know? A humble name makes for a hardy child, easy to raise!" "Alright, alright. Little Potato it is." Oh, my god. You named me Little Potato. Aish! I couldn't even decide my own name. Oh well, Little Potato is Little Potato, I guess. My father held me and smiled. It seemed he didn't share the preference for boys over girls. This meant my life in this family might just be a little bit better after all.